


Watching and Waiting

by ImperfectOrphanage



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-10 03:04:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10427721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperfectOrphanage/pseuds/ImperfectOrphanage
Summary: Hanekoma receives word from the Higher Ups that something is amiss in Shibuya.To be more precise, there is a certain baby boy who is causing a stir, and Hanekoma has taken it upon himself to guard and guide the little shit to adulthood.That is, if he doesn't strangle the brat first.





	1. Chapter 1

It was never good for the High Council to call in the Producer of Shibuya without warning. Sanae Hanekoma was worried the second he saw the number light up on his flip phone. They requested an emergency meeting with him, without his Composer, and under complete secrecy.

Despite the urgency, he stood outside one of the many Council Courtrooms waiting. What was popular saying? Hurry up and wait?

“Sanae Hanekoma, Shibuya District?”

He looked up from his phone to see the bailiff of the court leaning out of the doorway. The Angel was blonde haired and green eyed, and his nose had a speckling of freckles. They did not express any emotion as they held the door open for Hanekoma to enter the court.

The court was large and filled with a myriad of Angels partially shielded from view by a curtain of sunlight and stars. A few of Hanekoma’s peers sat in the benches watching court proceedings, and a handful or two were waiting for their own cases to start.

As soon as Hanekoma took the podium, however, he felt a gust of wind and everyone but the council had disappeared from the room in a breath.

Not good. Not good.

“Sanae Hanekoma, District Shibuya, we have grave news to share.”

“Aight, lay it on me,” he said, not caring too much for formalities since he was still dressed in his barista uniform and not in front of others. Hanekoma never saw a point to being presentable unless he had to look like a typical Angel.

“Well,” one of the Angels with a deep and rather unamused voice said, “there is an incident involving a newborn child. We need you to investigate and if necessary, intervene.”

A baby? What the hell?

“It has come to our attention,” a soft voice, almost motherly, “that the newborn is capable of seeing the Underground and it’s citizens. The child is two days old and yet he has shown significant power. We need to make sure he can be contained until a time we may need his services. If he is uncontrollable, however, you are ordered to Erase the child and any memories of his existence.”

Hanekoma blinked. He really couldn’t do much else since it would have been rude to shout obscenities about how he wouldn’t kill a fucking baby. A baby. A child. A complete innocent.

“I beg the court not to do this,” was all he could think to say.

“We know of your love for humanity, Sanae Hanekoma. It is not the time to exercise it.”

He couldn’t help but blurt out, “Like hell it ain’t.”

“We are warning you,” a collective of voices spoke, “to do your job or lose your position.”

 _And his right to exist_ , he thought.

“Fine. But I ain’t killin’ no baby. If I have ta watch ‘im his entire life, I ain’t killin’ a kid.”

There was a murmur of music as the Angels discussed. It took a full minute before the soft voice from before spoke. “We accept.”

Hanekoma gave a great bow. “I thank the Council for their faith in my judgment.”

The deep voice spoke with a cruel tilt, “I have little faith in it.”

 _Fuck you, too._ Hanekoma thought with a grin plastered on his face. He turned to leave, but realized he’d forgotten a crucial step to his orders.

“Ah, right, what’s the kid’s name?”

“Yoshiya Kiryu. We will send a message with the details once you return to Shibuya. Do not fail us or we will be forced to remove you from service.”

“Got it, got it, sheesh,” he mumbled before leaving the courtroom in a gaggle of feathers.

Coming back to Shibuya, he felt a little sick at the sudden change in atmosphere. His phone beeped and he flipped it open to see a rather adorable baby along with the name, date of birth, and hospital where he was located.

He smiled at the baby’s picture and sighed, “What’er you gonna do, you little shit?”

In the baby’s eyes he could see a glint of playfulness even though the child was just a few days old. Hanekoma snapped the phone shut, shifted his appearance a bit to look like a doctor, and he wove an imprint into the badge on his chest. If anyone doubted his presence at the hospital, one look at the tag would soothe their fears. He snapped his fingers and faded into a spot in the hospital where he could not sense music.

Ah, shit. He was near the morgue.

Following the signage on the walls and the plaques displaying what ward was where, he managed to get to the ninth floor where the maternity and birthing rooms were. It was noisy and filled with excitement. Hanekoma could hear hundreds of melodies and the plinking notes of newborns fresh out of the womb. There were a few sour notes in the infants born with defects. He couldn’t help them without being noticed.

A sudden jolt of happiness surged through him and a symphony of pleasure soared into the air. Hanekoma hurried his steps as much as possible without seeming out of place. In one of the rooms he almost walked past, he saw three beds with mothers holding children. The bed to the back, near the window was the source of the music, and the squirming bundle of noise burbled and cooed.

“My little Yoshiya,” the mother said, “you’re so cute.”

The baby had little mittens on his fists and they waved in the air as Yoshiya refused to settle down in the pink blanket he wore. His mother wiggled her fingers at him and he continued to be a noisy little shit.

Hanekoma walked up to the bed, took a peek at the clipboard, and smiled. “Yoshiya Kiryu, eh? What an active little guy he is.”

“Yes,” the mother said, glancing at Hanekoma’s false name badge, “you must be filling in for Seth. He’s always busy this time of year.”

The baby squealed the moment Hanekoma came into view. He punched the air and arched his back, trying in vain to get his baby body to move damnit. Hanekoma couldn’t stop his hands from reaching out to tickle the baby’s stomach through the lavender onesie. He noticed the baby’s eyes were similar to the color of the outfit and they caught Hanekoma and kept him.

Music filled the air. The baby stilled as he watched Hanekoma.

_Hey, little guy, you can hear me, can’t you?_

Yoshiya made a soft noise. He wiggled a bit in the blanket because he just needed to move now that he was free from his prison. His eyes had the most beautiful lashes fluttering over them. The baby’s skin was soft and smelled fresh, and his mouth continued to form broken smiles.

“The doctors and nurses say he’s not smiling. It’s just gas. But I know better,” the mother explained while holding the baby up for a kiss. “Are you hungry?”

Music. The baby was responding in music.

“Ah, let me hold ‘im a bit, if that’s alright?”

The mother smiled. “Of course. He seems to like you.”

She handed Yoshiya over and Hanekoma cradled the baby in his arms. Yoshiya smiled up at him and continued to move, his eyes transfixed on either Hanekoma’s face or a spot directly behind him.

Hanekoma grinned in return, and flicked his wings out. He watched as a feather curled in the air and landed on Yoshiya’s stomach. The entire time the baby had watched it fall with a curiosity and attention no newborn child should have. He stroked the baby’s fuzzy hair and handed him back to his mother.

_Don’t._

He tensed.

_No, no. No._

“I don’t think he’s wants me to leave. Sorry, kiddo, I gotta git.”

_No. No. Uh. No._

He turned to leave and immediately the baby began to wail.

_Don’t don’t! Nononono!_

Shit. The kid was too aware. He had to keep an eye on the squirt if he hoped to keep him alive and safe from the decision of the court. Hanekoma paused, turned back to touch the baby one more time, and he left shortly after.

It was going to be a long few years.

\---

Joshua, as his parents fondly called him, could hold a bottle. He was quite good at meeting his developmental milestones and he excelled in attention and concentration. The doctors had been surprised at how quiet and calm he was, and warned the parents that he may have some mental defect.

Throughout his growth, he was watched by Hanekoma. The Angel had put a mark on the child in the shape of a music note on the back of his neck. Once his hair grew in, the stain was hidden under a fall of blonde and silver curls. Joshua burbled and babbled when Hanekoma was near.

 _Daddy._ He would say.

“I’m not yer dad, kiddo,” Hanekoma would quickly respond, leaning on the crib to watch him drink the contents of the bottle before mewling to be burped. The mother was busy, and Hanekoma had nothing better to do than burp him.

Joshua hiccupped as he did so, and a bit of spit up dripped onto Hanekoma’s shoulder. He set the baby back down and Joshua giggled and fought with his feet in the onesie. For some reason, the little shit liked to chew on his feet.

“Don’t do that,” the Angel would warn.

The baby would look at him, defiant, and stuff the foot back in his mouth as if to say, fuck you, I like the taste of my feet.

Hanekoma sighed. “Yer gonna be difficult ain’t ya?”

“Buh?” Joshua spat his foot out long enough to say. He stuck it back in and chewed on the fabric until it was soaking wet with drool and milk. The baby laughed and kicked his legs before growing completely serious and staring up at the mobile hanging above the crib.

Oh no.

The look of concentration changed to pleasure, but quickly turned to irritation. He began to scream and his mother entered to pick him up.

“Aw, Joshua, did you take a little poop? You stinky baby,” she teased, putting him on the changing table to wipe him clean. “You sure do smell bad.”

Joshua giggled. He let a little pee squirt from the tiny lump that would eventually become his penis. The baby squealed and shot another stream into the air, only to be thwarted by his mother’s quick motions. She easily fended the attack off with the diaper.

“You stop that,” she said, tapping him on the nose.

He looked up at Hanekoma.

_Stop, Josh. It ain’t funny._

Joshua pouted and relaxed long enough for his mother to change his diaper. He was lifted back up and set in what was referred to as a boppy to help his neck muscles grow strong. Sitting in the boppy he slapped the rubber and plastic holding him up as he waited for his mother to bring him plastic toys.

His favorite toy was a ring of plastic keys and a small blue car. He sucked on the car while swinging the keys in the air with his left hand. Throughout playing he would watch Hanekoma walk around the room.

“I gotta go, kiddo. I’ll check ya tomorrow.”

_Daddy, no._

“I ain’t yer daddy!”

_Sanae._

The Angel froze. He stared at Joshua with narrowed eyes.

_Sanae! Daddy Sanae!_

“No, no, no, don’t y’start that shit.”

_Shit!_

Hanekoma rubbed his face. The kid was going to be a boil on his ass for a long time, he just knew it. He could sense it in the bright gaze from the baby and from the way Joshua would do the most improper things to annoy him.

Speaking of which, the keys flew at Hanekoma’s face and smacked him between the eyes before falling back down. He knelt to retrieve them and was alarmed when they snapped into Joshua’s hand without Hanekoma even touching them.

_Mine, Sanae. Buh-bye._

“Kid, don’t do that. People’ll not understand.”

_Don’t?_

Hanekoma reached out to brush a hand over the baby’s hair. “Don’t do it.”

A deep pout and Joshua growled and grumbled as he slung the keys through the air. It was his way of showing Hanekoma he wasn’t happy but he’d behave because his _daddy_ told him to.

Fading from view, Hanekoma returned to his café to mix a stiff drink.

The kid was going to be a fucking nightmare. Why did he agree to this, again?

Ah, right. Because he didn’t want to kill the little shit.

Hanekoma was beginning to have reservations.


	2. Chapter 2

As Joshua grew, so did Hanekoma’s patience.

The kid was annoying on most days, but he had a sweet streak that sucked people in. Joshua loved to sit with Hanekoma and listen to stories of monsters and angels. When he couldn’t sleep, he would cry for Sanae, and his parents assumed the Angel was just an imaginary friend. Hanekoma could never ignore Joshua’s pleading, and it was beginning to encroach on his creative pursuits.

He needed a more hands on position in the kid’s life.

“Sanae, Sanae!”

Hanekoma looked up, leaving his thoughts, to see Joshua peddling a tricycle in the front parking lot of the apartment complex. He laughed and spun in circles, stopping only when Hanekoma stuck his foot out to stop the front wheel.

“Hey, that’s not nice.”

“You’ll get sick,” he warned, smoking his third cigarette of the day. “Ain’t you supposed to be with the kids down there? Don’t you want friends yer own age?”

Joshua smiled up at him. “No. I don’t like children. They play stupid games. It’s more fun to be with you because you’ve got good stories. Tell me one about you.”

“Ain’t nothin’ ta know ‘bout me.”

The kid hopped off the tricycle and went running down the little alleyway between the complex and a disused building covered in vines and broken windows. Joshua giggled as he ran away from Hanekoma calling into the air, “come back, come back!”

Hanekoma rolled his eyes. He walked behind the kid and kept his attention on the four year old while he chased a Noise. It was one of those Pig Noises, and Hanekoma smiled as Joshua tackled it and fell off.

“Ow!”

His face screwed up and he hugged his knee to his chest. Fat tears began to roll down his cheeks and he whimpered as blood trickled down his leg. The pig oinked and trotted up to him, nosing him in the face and neck. Joshua laughed and wrapped his arms around the pig.

The kid had a one track mind. Hanekoma sighed, knelt down next to them, and brushed a hand over Joshua’s knee to make the wound disappear.

“How do you do that, Dad?”

“Don’t. Call. Me. Dad.”

“Papa?” Joshua teased. “How do you do it, Sanae?”

Hanekoma frowned. “It’s magic.”

“Like fuck it is,” the kid said without a bit of hesitation.

Rubbing his face, Hanekoma settled down on the pavement next to Joshua. “Kid, I told ya, stop speakin’ like an adult. People’ll think yer weird.”

“I don’t care what people think,” Joshua said. He patted the Pig Noise and let it run off. “Sanae, am I a freak?”

“Why would ya think yer a freak?”

Joshua rolled onto his back and spread his arms out on the pavement. “I heard Mother and Father talking about how strange I am. They think I need to see a counselor. I swear I haven’t done the music stuff in front of them. I promise.”

“Good kid,” he replied, flicking the cigarette into the air. “Some people don’t understand what they don’t understand.”

Tilting his head, Joshua blinked at Sanae. “Huh?”

“It’s like,” he spread his arms, “this city. It’s got its own rules and values. If ya don’t follow the basic rules of society, yer gonna be thought as somethin’ strange. It don’t mean you are, mind ya, but it’s gonna be misunderstood until ya show you ain’t different.”

Joshua rolled onto his stomach and flicked a bug across the sidewalk. “Sanae, are you saying I have to be like everyone else or no one will like me? That’s stupid. I’m not going to be like anyone else. I’ve got my values and they can shove it.”

He couldn’t stop from laughing. Joshua often said things he found hilarious. It was the honest to God truth and Joshua never shied away from the truth. He might have tiptoed around it, but he always kept it.

“Yer gonna be great, kid. I see a bright future for you.”

“Oh, Sanae, you’re so stupid. I’m going to die in the future. There’s nothing good about dying. Father says people die all the time and sometimes you can’t do anything to make them better. I told him maybe if he didn’t try to poison them, they’d not die, but he said I didn’t understand anything about chemotherapy and stuff.”

“I’m impressed. Y’can say such big words.”

“I’m smart,” he said, and drew his finger over the sidewalk. Tiny lines of blue and grey began to weave over the white background. “Do you think I’ll be able to do what you do?”

“What’dya mean?”

He didn’t say anything for a bit, tracing fingers over the drawing. “Do you think I can heal someone using the music magic you use? I’ve been practicing. My goldfish died last week.”

“Sorry, kid,” he said, actually apologetic. Joshua loved pets and loved people. “I don’t think y’can save everyone. Death is just somethin’ that happens.”

“I don’t like death,” Joshua whispered. “When I get bigger, I’m going to stop death.”

Hanekoma exhaled. He pulled Joshua up to his feet and kept his hands on Joshua’s arms. “J, I know ya wanna make the world better but y’can’t kill death.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” he said, fingers twisting into Sanae’s sleeves. “If death is a thing then everyone dies and even death can die. I mean, uh…something like that. Sanae, you’re an Angel, right? Maybe you can teach me how to do more music magic and I’ll be able to stop death.”

He stroked Joshua’s hair from his face and gave him a fatherly smile. Joshua’s actual father was rarely around because of work, and if he was spending time with Joshua, it was usually at the hospital. Hanekoma pulled Joshua into his lap and squeezed his hands. “Look. I’ll make a promise wit’ ya. If you do good in school, grow up to be a good person, and you keep _your_ promises, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Make a bet with me,” Joshua said. “I bet I can do all those things and more, and if I do, you have to do what I tell you to. If you win and I lose, what do you want?”

“Let’s see,” he tapped his chin, “if ya lose, it’s a surprise.”

Joshua smiled. He wrapped his arms around Sanae’s neck and kissed his cheek. “Mother’s coming.”

On cue, down the alleyway, they heard Joshua’s mother’s voice calling for him to come and wash up for an early dinner. Joshua called back and ran toward her, stopping halfway down the alleyway.

The sun was beginning to set. Golden light bathed the walls and glowed behind Joshua as if he was the sun hanging above the buildings. His smile was brilliant and he spread his arms and fingers wide.

“I’m going to change things when I’m older, Sanae! I promise!”

Hanekoma watched him run around the corner.

He lit up another cigarette.

\---

It was after school and Joshua was animatedly talking to Hanekoma about the things he had learned in advanced classes. He had tested high on intelligence, and his parents were able to get him into a fine school on a full scholarship. The only problem they had was Joshua tended to be a bit distracted, but as soon as Hanekoma began sitting next to him in class-obviously hidden-he calmed down.

Hanekoma had passed himself off to Joshua’s parents as a well meaning tutor who could take Joshua to the café after school to give him music lessons and help with homework. All it took was a little imprinting and a lot of false background. Hanekoma didn’t mind watching the little shit. He was fun to be around and he often told hilarious stories about things that didn’t happen.

He had the imagination of an Angel, and he loved to exercise it.

“…and then Hiroshi said I should have put the frog in my pants.”

The words brought Hanekoma back to the present and out of his thoughts.

“What the hell?”

Joshua grinned up at him. “We thought it would be funny.”

“To put a frog in yer underwear?”

“Uh huh! We’d take it out later and put it in one of the girls’ lunch boxes.”

“You, ah,” Hanekoma exhaled, “didn’t do it, did you?”

“Nah. We ran out of time.”

Hanekoma watched as Joshua balanced on a low wall with his arms spread out. He took careful steps and focused on his unsteady feet. The kid was too damn cute in his uniform with soft curls cascading around his face. His mother had tried to pull it back into a manageable ponytail, but it never stayed long since Joshua was hyperactive and liked to roll in the dirt.

“Sanae, I don’t have any homework. What are we going to do?”

“I’ll teach ya a little violin. Yer a bit young but it’s good to start when yer mind’s soft.”

Joshua looked up at him long enough to fall from the wall. He smacked onto the ground and huffed before sitting up on his knees. His nose was a bit bloody and his hands were scraped, but he didn’t seem bothered by the obvious pain he should be in. Joshua wiped his nose on his pocket towel and sneezed.

“You okay, kiddo?”

“Yep,” he replied, towel on his nose. “I think I should have watched where I was going.”

Hanekoma knelt down to pick Joshua up, book bag and all. He carried the bundle of irritation the rest of the way to the café, where he plunked him down in the back room. It was Hanekoma’s creative space and he didn’t mind Joshua messing around as long as he kept to his own art.

“I’ll get ya some ice,” he said, ruffling Joshua’s hair. “Stay put, aight?”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Joshua giggled.

The minute Hanekoma left the room to go to the kitchen, he heard the sound of an obviously not staying put Joshua. He could hear the box of crayons opening and scattering onto the floor followed by a declaration of, “oops”.

“I said behave!”

Joshua shouted back, “No, you said stay put.”

“Kid, I swear-“

“And you didn’t set the parameters of where I should stay.”

Hanekoma wanted to snap. Dear High Council, please take this shitheaded child and Erase him.

“Sanae, where’s the paper?”

He ignored Joshua’s question in favor of getting an ice pack from the freezer. Wrapping it in a towel he took it to Joshua and winced as he saw the amount of blood on his face, uniform, and hands. There were spots of blood on the table, the box of crayons, and the concrete floor.

The kid was drawing shapes with the blood. He’d stick a finger in his nose, draw a line, and repeat.

“Josh, what the hell?! You don’t do that!”

“Sorry?” He didn’t sound sorry. “It looks neat. Watch this!”

Hanekoma couldn’t stop it. He saw Joshua sneeze and a spray of blood dotted the floor.

“Neat, huh?”

“Kid…” he didn’t know what to say. Hanekoma grabbed him by the collar, lifted him up, and set him on the coffee table. Taking the towel Joshua had used, he wiped the blood from his face and hands before pressing the ice pack a bit too hard to his nose and mouth.

Joshua squirmed and flailed.

“Sometimes, kiddo, I don’t know why I bother.”

“Because you like me,” Joshua said, and took the ice pack. “It’s okay. I like you, too, Dad.”

Hanekoma rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Don’t call me that.”

A muffled giggle was Joshua’s response. He hopped from the table and walked through the blood to a painting Hanekoma was currently working on. The kid stared at it, eyes wide and critical.

It gave Hanekoma enough time to music away the blood. The Higher Ups had warned him to stop healing Joshua’s illnesses and injuries. Hanekoma was allowed to watch after him but Joshua had to go through life as normally as possible.

Joshua sneezed into the ice pack. He pulled it away long enough to look at a clot of blood before squishing it back to his nose.

“I suppose we won’t get much done today,” Hanekoma said. He settled on the couch and pulled out his sketchbook. It always calmed his nerves to draw, and often it made Joshua sit still and watch. The lines on the page were a bit shaky-he hadn’t had a cigarette in a few hours-but they began to take shape.

“Are you drawing Noise?”

Hanekoma didn’t reply. He continued to draw.

“I saw this one Noise the other day. It was different from the rest.”

“How?” He said, still focused on the book.

“It was ugly.”

“Define ugly.”

Joshua coughed. “Ew. It tastes like blood.”

“Obviously,” Hanekoma said with a twitch of a grin on his lips. “Define ugly.”

“Right. Uh,” the kid paused, “it was really not pretty.”

Hanekoma again felt the need to throttle the child.

“I drew a picture at recess.” Joshua pulled his book bag from the floor and dumped the contents half onto the rug and half on the couch. He dug through crumpled papers until he found a messy sketch in markers and pens. “Here.”

Not expecting much more than a doodle of a colored mess, Hanekoma gave it a side glance.

Wait.

He snatched the paper away and stared at the childish scribble of a Taboo Noise.

It couldn’t be.

“You look upset,” Joshua said. He patted Hanekoma’s cheek. “There, there.”

“Where’d ya see it?”

Joshua tilted his head. “It was in the school yard.”

“Shit, really?” Hanekoma rose from the couch to pace. Where were his cigarettes?

“Is it a bad Noise? It didn’t do anything but stand there and stare at us. It looks like a kangaroo and boy it could hop! After it watched us play it went poof into the air and over the roof.”

Hanekoma continued to pace, staring at the drawing. He needed to call the Higher Ups but how was he to explain that the Noise was only noticed by Joshua? The Conductor…the Game Masters…hell, even he should have felt the discord in the city’s music. He looked up from the drawing and noticed the ice pack was on the table and Joshua wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

Shit. Again.

“Oi, J!”

“I’m in ‘ere!” He said, mocking Hanekoma’s accent. “I’mma get ya a pack of cigarettes.”

Following the voice, Hanekoma found Joshua in the kitchen on a stool, rummaging through the drawer where Hanekoma usually kept his cigarettes and other forms of relaxation. Joshua pulled a pack from the drawer, tapped it on his palm, and handed it over.

“You’ve been watching me.”

Joshua nodded. “You always pat it three times before opening it.”

“You’ve really gotta get some friends yer age, kiddo.”

“Do you think I can smoke when I’m as old as you?” Joshua jumped from the stool and landed on his feet in a kneel. He stood back up and sniffled. The blood was caked on his nose but the bleeding had stopped at least.

The barista grabbed another towel, wet it in the sink, and began to wipe Joshua’s nose clean.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for y’to start smokin’ at any age.”

“What about the tube thing?”

Hanekoma frowned, deeply. “Josh, stay outta my drawers.”

The kid laughed. He laughed hard enough to wobble on his short legs.

It took a moment but Hanekoma eventually caught on and growled. “Not like that!”

Joshua kept laughing even as he bounded from the kitchen and back into the art room. It gave Hanekoma some time to text the High Council about the possible Taboo Noise. He left out the part about Joshua having been the one to see it. They responded with their usual canned message of “we’ve received your query and will reply in 24-48 hours”.

From the other room he could hear Joshua playing. He stood in the doorway and listened to him babble as he colored pictures and dug through the mess he’d made of his book bag for a spare sandwich. Despite the kid being somewhat infuriatingly annoying, Hanekoma loved the little guy.

“I gotta pee!”

A blur of color flew through the hall and Hanekoma laughed as he heard Joshua make a triumphant noise that he’d made it in time.


	3. Chapter 3

“I wrote something for you.”

Hanekoma looked up from the cappuccino he was trying to perfect. The caramel drizzle dripped from the side and he slid his finger along the cup to wipe it away. He sucked on his finger and set the bowl of caramel aside. “Oh?”

His charge had grown in ways Hanekoma hadn’t expected. Joshua was now a pre-teen with the attitude of an adult as he prepared his future. He didn’t want to go into the same career path as his father, and he wanted to have an easy job in order to have time for a family. Composing music was his current obsession and though he had promise, there were a few things he had yet to learn.

“It’s March 3rd, correct?”

“What is?”

Joshua laughed. He took a sip of his coffee. “Your birthday.”

Oh. Right. He’d forgotten.

“You honestly forgot your own birthday? Sanae,” Joshua clicked his tongue, “how irresponsible.”

“It’s not like it matters,” he replied, marginally hurt by the jab. “Angels don’t really age.”

Taking another sip of coffee, Joshua sighed. “Why have a birthday, then?”

“Y’want the truth?” Hanekoma leaned over the counter as if to spill a great secret. “Paperwork.”

Joshua laughed again, his voice and his laughter infectious and loud. He smiled and shook his head. “Honestly. You’re such a tease. Here.”

The boy slid a folder over the counter and tapped his finger on top. There was no name on the tab and the front was blank. Hanekoma flipped it open and gave the mess of notes a critical stare. It wasn’t bad, but it had a few notes to tweak. The song was better than most of Joshua’s compositions, and the sound was familiar to Hanekoma.

“Is that,” he swallowed and picked the music up, “me?”

Joshua nodded, coffee cup to his lips.

Shit. The kid had composed a song based on the music in Hanekoma’s wings and aura.  It made something inside Hanekoma feel warm. He hadn’t felt warmth in his heart in so long it was hard to place the feeling with the organ.

“Is it alright? I know in the second half it needs a little work. I was going on memory and-“

He suddenly cupped Joshua’s face in his hands. The boy seemed less frightened and more curious. Hanekoma took in each of Joshua’s features. His eyes, his mouth, the shape of his nose-slightly crooked from repeated hits, the arch of his silver eyebrows, and the roundness of his face. It was still youthful and held a bit of baby fat in the cheeks and chin. Joshua blinked once, and the dilation of his eyes caught Hanekoma.

He had to do something to repay him.

“You’re being strange, Sanae.”

Pulling back, he smiled. “Thanks, kid. I just…I had ta record you in my head.”

“Weird,” Joshua said. He finished the last of the coffee. “Mm. I suppose I should go home. Mother is going to need help with dinner and there are a couple kids coming over for me to watch.”

Hanekoma took the cup, rinsed it, and set it in the sink. “Babysitting again, are ya?”

“Yes. I enjoy dealing with impressionable young minds. They’re the future, you know. If I can instill one value into each child it is their importance to the grand scheme of things.”

His watch beeped.

“Ah, right on time. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

The barista nodded. “Yep. Flute lessons.”

“Of course! Wednesdays are one of my favorites. See you later, Sanae.”

He watched Joshua leave the café and disappear around the corner.

The music sat on the counter in all it’s glory. He picked it up and placed a hand on the folder. Joshua had done such a simple thing and it changed Hanekoma’s attitude.

One little piece of music, and he felt a strange fondness wash over him.

Joshua was destined for great things.

\---

It was one of those rare days in which Hanekoma came over to Joshua’s apartment to help him with his studies and to watch the place while Joshua’s mother-Miriam-was out shopping. He would cook a fine meal for them and they would enjoy each other’s company with the lack of Joshua’s father not at all apparent at the dinner table. Hanekoma knew Joshua wanted to have a relationship with his father, but the man was emotionally  distant and his solution to everything was money.

“X minus four,” Joshua said, “oh, dear. I hate fractions.”

“Meh, math ain’t as important as they make it out to be. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Joshua leaned on one hand and flipped the page. “I suppose you’re right. However, it doesn’t help me pass my class. Hm…factoring in the inverse of y…”

“Do ya want vegetables?” Hanekoma smiled. He was going to make a fancy pasta dish. “It calls for tomatoes with a bit of lemon…”

“I’m quite alright with whatever you decide,” he said, distant. Joshua flipped through his studies and set the math aside for History. “Read sections one and two…answer questions one through forty-five…”

The door clicked and his mother came in. “I’m home!”

“Welcome home, Mother,” Joshua said sweetly. His expression would always switch to a peaceful sort of love when his mother was in the room. “I hope you were able to find what you needed?”

“Oh, yes!” Miriam said, smiling brightly as she carried the groceries into the apartment. “Sanae, you shouldn’t be over here so often. I feel spoiled.”

“Meh. It ain’t nothin’ special. I ain’t got a family outside of you two.”

She laughed. “I bought a small cake for us to share. Joshua, I bought you something cute.”

Joshua sat up. He looked mildly frightened for two seconds.

His mother dug through the bags and held up a yellow gift bag. Plunking it down on the table in front of Joshua she waited with bright eyes. “Open it!”

“Is it a hat?” Joshua peeked into the bag. “It is. How cute.”

“Put it on!”

“Yeah, J, put it on.”

Joshua shot Hanekoma a glare before pulling the knitted hat from the bag. It was purple with lace on the edge and the shape of two large bunny ears on the top, sticking straight up. He tucked it on and gave his best smile for his mother. “It’s certainly warm.”

“Yay! I’m glad you like it!” Miriam clapped and kissed her son on the forehead. “I also bought matching gloves and a scarf. Go on, dig in there!”

“Perhaps another time. I will give you a fashion show.”

She didn’t seem bothered as she flitted to the kitchenette to see what Hanekoma was cooking.

The woman was a spark of energy and she loved everyone she came across despite their attitude or emotion toward her. It was what made the marriage work, and why Joshua was still such a soft hearted boy though he saw death everyday. Hanekoma had taken a fancy to her.

“Ooh, you’re making something delicious I see!” Miriam took a spoon, dipped it into the sauce, and took a taste. “Sanae, this is divine!”

“Thanks,” he replied. “I try my best.”

Miriam smacked him on the arm. She began to animatedly talk about the day as she retrieved dishes for the table and asked Joshua to take his studies from it. He nodded, but Hanekoma could see what Miriam couldn’t.

There was a darkness in Joshua’s gaze. He watched his mother with a bittersweet expression before turning away with his stack of papers and books. Disappearing into his bedroom, he didn’t come back out until dinner was ready.

Later that evening, he was withdrawn. Hanekoma was a mite worried about  it, but when asked, Joshua would put on a brave face and shake his head.

Around eight o’clock, Hanekoma left for the day and was halfway down the hall to the outer stairs before the slapping of sneakers on concrete caught his attention.

“Sanae,” Joshua wheezed, “I…”

He turned to focus on Joshua, but was suddenly surrounded by an embrace from the thin boy. Hanekoma didn’t know why Joshua was clinging to him. All he could do was hold Joshua and rock him gently back and forth as they stood near the railing.

“She’s going to die.”

Hanekoma tensed. He pushed Joshua back a bit to look in his eyes.

“She’s going to die, Sanae. I feel it. Her energy…I can feel the music unraveling. Sanae,” he sobbed, “I don’t want her to die. Please…please stop it.”

“I can’t,” he said, a lump forming in his throat, “kid…”

“I never asked you for anything! I never asked you to use your power! Please,” he tugged on Hanekoma’s sleeves as he begged, “please stop it. Please. I can’t lose her.”

“I’m sorry. You can’t stop death.”

Joshua crumpled. He fell to his knees with his fingers still twisting into Hanekoma’s shirt. The quiet cries and whimpers were breaking Hanekoma’s heart.

“Please,” he whispered, “I’ll do anything. I’ll take her place. I’ll die for her. Please…please stop it.”

He hurt. He felt sick. He could hear the Council’s voice in the back of his mind reminding him how he wasn’t allowed to interfere with the health of either of them. Hanekoma could be a guide, but he could not directly affect things.

It angered him. He seethed and he roared on the inside.

Joshua looked up to him, face red, eyes soft, mouth trembling. “Please.”

“I can’t.”

“What good am I?” Joshua relaxed his grip, letting his hands fall to his knees. “What good am I if I can’t save her? What good is any of it if I can’t save the one person I love?”

“Josh…”

“No! I’m not going to hear it. I’ll find a way. I will.”

Hanekoma watched the boy pull up from the ground before darting around him to run off into the dark of the city. He wasn’t sure where Joshua was headed. It was probably not a good place, but Hanekoma didn’t want to bother the kid while he mourned his future loss.

Instead, he returned to the café and read the paper while waiting for the slim chance Joshua would show up to apologize for being rude-as he often put it. Hanekoma glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning and he hadn’t had a single customer. He decided to call it a day exactly when the bell rang.

Joshua entered, head down, hair wet. Was it raining?

“Kid-“

He tilted his head up.

“Shit, kid, what the hell?!”

Joshua’s lip was swollen. His left eye was bruised and half-shut as blood dripped from his nose and onto his once clean shirt. It was now covered in mud and other filth. Joshua coughed, spat out a tooth, and let it fall to the café floor.

“I tried.”

The words didn’t mean anything at first. Hanekoma stared at Joshua with his hands itching to help but having no idea where to start. He walked around the counter and as soon as he was close enough, Joshua collapsed into his arms.

“What did you do?”

“I tried,” he whispered. “I wasn’t ready.”

Hanekoma exhaled. He picked the boy up and carried him into the other room to sit on the couch. The first aid kit was never far from Hanekoma’s grasp, and he began to dot at the blood and scrapes. The damage to Joshua’s face was extensive, but it didn’t hold a candle to the burns on his hands and chest. His shirt was singed and his hair was a mussed up mess of curls. He barely remained conscious as Hanekoma cleaned him up and helped him remove his shirt.

“I tried,” Joshua said again, “I wasn’t ready.”

“What did you do, Josh?”

Finally, Joshua’s eyes-well, eye-focused on Hanekoma. “I found a crack. I exploited it. I tried to change it but…I wasn’t ready. It burned.”

He held his hands up. His fingers were black and bloody.

_I found a crack._

Hanekoma twitched.

_I exploited it._

He began to simmer.

_I wasn’t ready._

“Joshua, what the ever-lovin’ fuck were ya thinkin’ goin’ into tha UG as a livin’ person?!”

The boy trembled. “I’m sorry. I thought if I could…I could change it…Mother…”

Hanekoma didn’t care about the injuries. He didn’t care about Joshua being just a child of twelve and a stupid one at that. His arm snapped out as he backhanded Joshua clear off the sofa and into the floor.

At first, Joshua did nothing. He held a hand to the slapped cheek and slowly, ever so slowly, began to make a sound akin to a wounded animal. It fell into wailing and crescendoed into loud cries. His words were tumbling over each other as he apologized and begged for the power to make it stop.

He couldn’t do anything for Joshua. Hanekoma was still livid at the idiot child for what he’d done. Instead of staying by him, he left the room to check his phone for messages, of which there were none. However, in the front of the café was an orange-haired Reaper sucking on a stick. He grinned at Hanekoma and waved his hand.

“Yo.”

“Ain’t it a bit late, Kariya?”

“I thought you’d like to know,” he glanced around Hanekoma to the backroom, “we had an incident with a certain boy and a round of Taboo Noise.”

The. Fuck.

“Yes, he decided it would be a smart idea to try and control them. I bet the Higher Ups are pissed.”

Kariya was Hanekoma’s inside man. He knew of everything involving the Reapers both Harrier and Support, and quite a lot of RG gossip. The man had once been higher on the food chain but he’d retired to Harrier because he loved the city too much.

“Thanks, I’ll uh…handle it.”

“Mm, I’m sure you will. You owe me two bowls of ramen.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hanekoma waved it off, “Friday.”

The Reaper grinned. “Don’t make me wait.”

Hanekoma watched him leave. He instantly transported to the UG as he exited the café.

He could hear Joshua in the other room praying for one reason or another. Making sure to lock the door and turn the lights down, Hanekoma stormed into the room with the intent on punishing Joshua with a thorough tongue lashing.

He couldn’t.

Joshua was battered and bleeding, and his eyes were glowing softly with a sadness Hanekoma couldn’t begin to understand. There was a power within Joshua, struggling to get out, fighting to be used to its full potential, and he was shaking from the force of it. He knelt on the floor, knees tucked under his bottom, hands curled in his lap as he murmured a prayer in Latin.

Finally, Joshua felt Hanekoma’s presence. The kid looked up, eyes watering, and whimpered.

The forces of Heaven couldn’t have held Hanekoma back from kneeling down to embrace the boy. He’d grown to love and care for the little shit. Angels weren’t supposed to have those sorts of relationships and Producers weren’t supposed to have relationships outside of the UG period.

He couldn’t deny Joshua. He couldn’t ignore the child he’d helped raise. He couldn’t walk away from him just because he’d done something monumentally stupid.

“I’m sorry,” Joshua whispered, voice muffled with tears and Hanekoma’s shoulder, “I won’t do it again, Sanae. I promise. I won’t do it again.”

“Kid,” he sighed, holding tighter, “I can’t lose you.”

Joshua sniffled. “Am…am I important to you?”

“How the hell can you ask that?”

The unchecked power in Joshua’s music quieted down. It fell to the proper vibration and Hanekoma noticed Joshua had begun to fall asleep. He lifted the boy up in his arms and placed him on the couch. Joshua’s arm draped over his chest as his other arm hung from the couch.

Hanekoma could hear his phone vibrating.


	4. Chapter 4

With the growing use of personal computers and the internet, it was only a matter of time before the Higher Plane began to test an invention known as the smart phone. Hanekoma had been given one as a trial to see what Producers could do with the mobile applications. He wasn’t one-hundred percent sold on the device at first, but after a bit of fiddling around he enjoyed it on the side. The flip phone was still his favorite as it was much easier to program.

Joshua did not have a cell phone. He wasn’t keen on constant contact, and often wandered the city with his nose in a book. The boy loved to learn and even at fourteen he had mastered the use of English, and had an extensive knowledge of History here and abroad. He began to learn French and Spanish, just to have something to do while sitting with his mother in the hospital.

The incident two years prior had been ignored by the High Council. It had not gone unnoticed, but they had written it off as an accident. The Taboo Noise were cleaned up and the cracks in the UG were repaired. Joshua found cracks and reported them to Hanekoma, and the High Council took note of his assitance by allowing him a bit of freedom. He could interact with a few Reapers-Kariya in particular-and he could continue to be trained in music by Hanekoma.

Not the sort of music played, but the kind used in the UG.

Hanekoma went even further by teaching him mild imprinting and the ability to scan crowds without getting a migraine from too much music. He was exceptional at it, and had even begun to draw designs for Noise and pins. Most of his ideas were scrapped, but Hanekoma had tweaked a couple for use.

The city had begun to sour, and with it, Joshua’s mood. He had-in the span of two years-changed from a happy, intelligent child, to a quiet individual who mostly kept to himself. Hanekoma knew the majority of the reason was Joshua’s mother’s health, but there were other things bothering him.

He grew distant with each day, and eventually he stopped coming to the café.

It was six days before his fifteenth birthday when his mother finally passed. She had been in a lot of pain in the months previous, and Joshua spent as much time as he could with her. He had been holding her hand when she breathed her last.

Joshua had been the only one.

His father was working, his aunt was unable to come due to work and family obligations, and his mother’s parents had long ago passed. It had been dark and empty in the room, and though Hanekoma had kept an eye on him remotely, he hadn’t been able to come stand by him.

But now, Hanekoma stood next to Joshua in the cemetary.

“It should be raining,” Joshua said. It was directly after the funeral and he remained in the fold-out chair staring at the coffin. The workers were to the side, waiting for him to finish visiting, before burying her.

“Kid, it’s not good to stay ‘ere.”

Joshua didn’t look up. He kept staring at the silver coffin. His eyes were red, his cheeks were flushed, and his general appearance was of an unwashed individual who had not slept in weeks and wore the same clothes day after day.

Speaking of clothes…

“You’ve lost weight, kiddo.”

“I don’t care,” he exhaled. “It doesn’t matter. If I am to die, better now than later.”

Hanekoma didn’t know what to do. He didn’t deal with the grief side of death often.

“Sanae? Do you think…I could stay with you for a while?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation, “stay as long as ya like.”

Finally, he rose from the chair. He walked toward the coffin and put his hand on the lid. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Mother. I love you.”

Hanekoma watched him kiss the coffin. He then turned and walked away from the gravesite with his hands in his suit pants pockets.

It should have been raining.

\---

The music of the city continued to grow dark. Hanekoma had been tasked with finding the source and Erasing it, but how could he when it was his Composer? The man had become disillusioned with Shibuya and wanted nothing to do with her outside of the Game. It wasn’t healthy for the Composer or the city for them to be at odds.

Squeak. Squeak.

He looked up to see Joshua sitting at the bar coloring with markers. Each stroke illicited a squeak or a squeal, and the sounds didn’t seem to bother Joshua in the slightest. The boy continued to draw and color with one hand on his cheek to hold his head up. He hummed a bit-a small piece of music he’d been working on with the assitance of a classmate. There was something not quite right with it but neither of them could figure out just what it was.

“Sanae, tell me about the Game.”

Hanekoma frowned. It was never good for Joshua to ask questions about the UG. “What’dya wanna know that y’don’t already?”

Squeak.

“I want to enter the Game.”

“Hell no. I didn’t spend fifteen years raisin’ yer ass for this.”

He looked up at Hanekoma. “Why did you spend fifteen years raising me if not for this?”

The kid had a point.

“Exactly. I know there is no bright future for me in this Shibuya. The future of her citizens is dark and full of calamity. Despite wanting to live,” Joshua glanced outside, “I want the city to live more.”

“It’s not yer place.”

Joshua smiled. He returned to coloring.

The silence between them was physical. Hanekoma tried to ignore it as he cleaned behind the bar and dug through the fridge to find out of date items. He found a few spoiled cakes in the back and a jar of fluff he’d forgotten to close all the way.

It was evident the second the squeaking stopped. Hanekoma glanced over his shoulder to see Joshua grinning at whatever he’d done.

“I will see you later,” he suddenly said, and hopped from the stool. “Know that whatever transpires is for the good of all, Sanae.”

“Don’t do something stupid,” Hanekoma returned. He narrowed his eyes as Joshua laughed and left the café, leaving the drawing on the counter.

It was a mess of lines and wavy strokes of color. The picture didn’t make sense on the surface, but the deeper he delved, the more he could see the imprinting. It drew him in and he couldn’t stop until the maze of values and words danced around to a center focal point.

_No._

Hanekoma ripped the artwork three times and let the pieces scatter. He grabbed his coat, slammed the door on the way out to lock it, and hurried down the sidewalk to try and catch up with Joshua. The kid’s music was fading, and it was only after Hanekoma couldn’t feel it anymore did he realize why.

He’d taught Joshua too well.

The fucking imprinting.

Shit. Damn it. Fuck it all to Hell and back.

He shouted to the Heavens just as the clouds opened up and released a torrent of rainfall onto the busy city below.

“Joshua!”

The lightening flashed and thunder rumbled behind it. Hanekoma ran for the Scramble, hoping beyond hope that Joshua had gotten caught in a red light. He parted the crowd and searched the many faces for the pale skin and soft expression of his charge. There was laughter in the air and Hanekoma knew the boy was testing him. He was playing with Hanekoma and it pissed the Producer off six ways to Sunday.

“Oh, my God!”

“Someone’s up there!”

“What’s he doing?”

Hanekoma froze. He followed the crowd’s gaze to see Joshua standing on a rather high ledge of 104. The boy was too far away to see details but Hanekoma could bet his last yen that the kid was grinning.

“Joshua!”

Stretching it’s arms out, the nearly unrecognizable form leapt from the ledge and fell further and further and further down. He bounced on the pavement. The crowd screamed and parted. Hanekoma hurried toward the bundle of fabric and skin.

Joshua was still alive. He coughed, he wheezed, and he smiled. “Finally.”

“What the hell, kid?”

“I won’t be remembered,” he whispered, “but you’ll be there, won’t you?”

The crowd thinned. The people wandered off as if Joshua didn’t exist.

He didn’t.

His body faded into the UG and disappeared into a million notes of music all collecting into the soul of a Player waiting to be summoned.

Hanekoma watched as it flew off toward the Shibuya River with a soft whistle.

It took three of the seven days for Joshua to overthrow the Composer.

It would take thirteen years before Joshua became the man he should have been.


End file.
